


Break in the Recruits (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

by Steggy



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Heated Moments, Insert Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steggy/pseuds/Steggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky doesn't let it up. He pushes and pushes, he doesn't give you a break. You could kill him. You think about it a lot when he's working you and working you, forcing you to keep going regardless of how out of breath you are. This training for SHIELD is brutal. Or is it just Bucky that is? Or is it something else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break in the Recruits (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt in bold, (Y/N) is your name!
> 
> bother me on twitter @alyjevans or on tumblr @spangledcap & @poorcap

Sweat trickled down the side of your face, pooling at the base of your neck and into the dips before your shoulders. Your knuckles ached with the feeling of bruises rising to the surface of your skin, beneath the bloodied, torn skin in those boxing gloves despite efforts to wrap them tight enough. The punching bag laid in tatters halfway across the room, cotton spilling out this way and that, dust still circling the crime scene as the sound of your labored breath seemed to echo throughout the entire tower.

“Again,” He hissed, dragging the new bag across the floor by its chain. The metal of his arm glistened with the help of the overhead lights of the gym as he passed underneath them to get to you.

You let your gloves fall and hit against your thighs, a frustrated, more than audible sigh passing your lips, eyes alit with rage. It was nearly the tenth time you’d been through this. Bag. Hit. Punch. Kick. Bag destroyed. New bag. Hit. Punch. Kick. Bag destroyed. Again. Bucky wouldn’t let you stop. The serum Hydra had injected in you didn’t seem to want to leave your system, not without leaving inhuman strength behind. He tried his damndest to work it out of you, the others tried to help you, make you stronger. But Bucky’s brown eyes were like piercing ice each time he forced you into the gym, treating you like a patient with a disease that could be cured.

“No.”

A chill ran down your spine when those cold eyes turned and burned into you, his dark hair whipping around and sticking to his cheeks, forehead, his own sweat running down his temple.

“No?” Your heart thudded in your ears as he rounded the newly hung bag, invading your personal space, making sure to get right in your face to the point where his nose was barely brushing your own.

His eyes refused to leave your own, glaring, and you narrowed your eyes and glared right back. Your chests rose and fell in sync, the tension almost palpable, both of you waiting for the other to make a move. To move an inch. To throw a punch. To push the other back. To do something. Dare to do something. His breath mingled with yours, your hands clenched into fists, anger rising in your throat. You wouldn’t be treated like this anymore. You wouldn’t stand to be treated like you were sick and needed to be treated.

Seconds. Minutes. You were sure how long you both stood there, staring at each other, wishing the other would just start something. At the same time, there wasn’t a way to avoid noticing the smooth curves of his lips so close to your own, despite the slight angered pucker they were contorted into.

Sick of the silence, boiling with frustration, you opened your mouth to spit an insult or two at him before demanding he treat you like a human being like anyone else in the tower, but another voice interjected, a woman, clearing her throat and calling, “James, Steve needs you in the archive room. Says he found something important.”

Whipping your head around, the tension was momentarily shattered at the entrance of Natasha, her arms folded across her chest as she directed her gaze at Bucky. In the corner of your eye, you caught the muscle tremor in his clenched jaw before he reclaimed control of his rage, relaxing, and responding with a nod. Before you could edge in another word, he was gone, slipping past Natasha and out of the gym.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you threw the gloves off of your hands as Natasha neared you, her lips curving into a sly smirk.

“So,” She started, crossing to you before placing one hand against the punching bag, “ _ **I saw you staring at each other for about ten minutes, I’m just not sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage**_. Care to direct me in the right path?”

You scoffed, unwrapping the bandages from your hands and shaking your head at her. “I want to break his face, does that help any?”

The smirk didn’t move from her face.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

Water bottle in hand, this morning in the gym already receding from your mind, you rounded the corner, headed for your room for some long overdue rest. But you weren’t even halfway over the threshold when a streak of metal flew through your vision and slammed against the door to hold it open as far as it could go, a hand pressing into your back, forcing you inside. Your feet stumbled over one another, your breath catching in your throat as Bucky threw the door shut behind the two of you before grabbing you and pinning you against the nearest wall.

Now, those icy eyes returned to your own. They veered into you, piercing as always, but with his hands on either side of your face, his hot breath fanning across your skin, those eyes suddenly filled with heat.

“I don’t like being told no,” He growled, forehead brushing your own. The urge to break his face was long gone. The urge to pull him closer and tear into him was born in a fiery desire. You were the first to glare this time, ready to play off of this, to see what you could do to push more buttons, but then his lips crashed down onto yours, hungry, angry, passionate. His teeth grazed the flesh of your bottom lip, your hands slid up his sides and forcibly tangled in his hair, tugging, pulling him closer, yet pretending to fight him off despite the way your lips responded so equally to the passion of his own.

Heavy, labored, hot breathing. He broke away, biting at your lips, pulling before letting go. “But this is the only time I’ll accept it if you do.”

His eyes burned with something else entirely. They set you ablaze. And in that moment, you made a mental note to curse Natasha for being right.

Tugging him as close as possible by his hair, he grimaced slightly before you whispered with hot breath, “This time, I don’t want to.”

And your lips collided all over again.


End file.
